To say that I haven't felt like writing would be a lie. However, I can admit to not being able to put my thoughts onto the page as per usual. Ideas, feelings, random thoughts come visit for awhile, and then they fade out into nothingness as I let the wisps fly away instead of tying them down and spinning my yarn to make something more out of it all. It is hard to say how or when I will find my way out of this. I wonder if I ever will. It doesn't seem possible, no matter what anybody says.
Right now, I have so many things I want to tell you, but I can't seem to be able to invest enough heart to put it out there. Excavating my thoughts on emotional terrorism drained me of all I had left to give in any smart way.
I don't even want to tell you how long it took for me to get this much written down, because I am ashamed of how I've allowed myself to let go of my happy place, where I am free. I don't feel free to say or do as I choose. I know that I am; I just don't feel it.
Right now, I have so many things I want to tell you, but I can't seem to be able to invest enough heart to put it out there. Excavating my thoughts on emotional terrorism drained me of all I had left to give in any smart way.
I don't even want to tell you how long it took for me to get this much written down, because I am ashamed of how I've allowed myself to let go of my happy place, where I am free. I don't feel free to say or do as I choose. I know that I am; I just don't feel it.
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